Over a Pint
by Vespera
Summary: Truths are revealed in a seedy bar over a few pints of ale. Ingame, spoilers through Archades. Balthier x Ashe


Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XII and all related characters belong to SquareEnix. No infringement is intended.

First of all, thanks for all the generous feedback on my first FFXII fic. I feel so welcome, and now I find myself inspired to try another piece. This one is far less intense, taking place shortly after the party arrives in Old Archades. © January 2007

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Over a Pint

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Ashe knew from the moment her feet touched its weathered streets that she would not enjoy her time in Old Archades. The city simply reeked of despair and loss, coupled with the literal reek of filth and decay. Add to it the curious stares that met the party at every turn, and the armed knights that guarded the path to the capital proper, and her discomfort rose to the level of true anxiety.

Balthier's exchange with the odd character Jules did nothing to ease her mind. A city where the path to luxury rested in the selling of secrets? How could the deposed, supposedly deceased, currently fugitive princess of an enemy kingdom possibly breathe easily in a town populated by streetears?

And so she walked carefully, taking note of every soul she passed in the streets. Most only met her eyes for a moment, but others gazed long and hard, and the princess couldn't help but fear rumors of her survival had reached even this decrepit city.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her bare shoulder. "Calm yourself, Princess. Keep acting so skittish and someone is bound to realize you don't belong here."

She glared at Balthier's teasing grin, again wishing Penelo hadn't suggested splitting up the party. It might be more efficient to collect Archadian secrets in pairs, but now she had to tolerate Balthier, who had proven to be in one of his more _playful_ moods. He was never so forward with Basch casting a protective shadow over his Lady, and the presence of Fran or the children usually brought the gentleman out of the rogue. Usually.

She frowned meaningfully at his hand, and after a moment he released her. "Parading around this city is foolish. Our clothes are proof enough that we are not residents. Anyone with eyes and a drop of curiosity will ask questions."

He answered her concerns with a smirk. "Come, come, Princess. Surely you trust me by now?"

She did. In fact, when she chose to examine it, her trust in the sky pirate ran far deeper than she could explain. His advice she always took to heart, which was why the party traversed the long and treacherous road to the empire's capital on foot.

She also recognized that his opinion of her carried a great deal of weight. When he assured her of her strength, she felt the courage to face her greatest enemies. When he spoke of the dangerous lure of the nethicite's power, she took offense, as if he were indirectly accusing her of falling prey to its whim.

Of course, acknowledging her trust in him didn't mean she had to _admit_ it. "Stop addressing me so formally," she insisted, skirting his question entirely. "If information is currency in this city, I'd rather not announce my title to every man, woman, and child here."

"My apologies," he replied in a tone that was anything but contrite. "I will strive to be more discreet… Ashe."

The sound of her given name on his lips was… unsettling. So she turned away from his carefree smile, gazing down the shadowed alley before them. "What sort of information will get us safely into Archades?"

"We'll know it when we hear it," he replied, descending the weather-worn stairs. She followed closely behind him as they passed through another crowded alley.

"Ah, here we are."

Ashe followed his eyes to a rickety structure with half a dozen men lining the street around it half-conscious, and a few still downing beverages.

"A tavern?" she deduced, stopping cold.

He smiled at her shocked look. "Indeed, and a disreputable one at that. What better place to discover a valuable secret? Ale is wondrously effective at loosening lips."

Her frown deepened. "And dulling senses, as well as inciting men to rage."

He dared take her hand, pure amusement on his face. "Never fear, Ashe. I will protect you from all the clumsy, drunken fools that may threaten you."

She pulled away from him, glaring furiously as Balthier entered the tavern. Then, feeling rather foolish standing alone in the street, she lifted her chin and followed him.

The tavern defied description, and her stomach turned at the sounds, scents, and sights that assaulted her.

_How could anyone partake of food or drink in such a place?_ She wondered, her skin crawling as a rather large rodent scampered across the uneven floor boards. After two years spent leading the underground Resistance she knew how to survive with meager provisions, but still, it was disconcerting to see a people struck so low.

It was even more disconcerting to see so many eyes trained upon her at once. She felt the urge to shrink away from the barrage of lingering gazes and lecherous smiles, yet pride kept her in place.

Though, she was not too proud to take the stool beside Balthier at the bar.

She blinked at the frothy mug set in front of her. "What is this?"

"Ale; brewed from barley malt and hops." He touched his mug to hers. "Cheers."

She watched him down a long sip of the amber brew before looking back to her own. "I know what ale is," she murmured, considerable effort keeping the pique out of her tone. "I _meant_, why are we drinking it?"

He leaned close to her ear. "Otherwise, we'd look rather suspect sitting in a tavern, wouldn't we?"

She didn't so much as move until he drew back from her, and only then did she realize her breath had escaped her.

Her fingers trembled with the urge to rub away the tickle his breath left upon her neck, but instead she reached for the mug. _His insipid displays have **no** effect on me, _she reminded herself, taking a testing sip of the ale.

It was bitter on her tongue, nothing like the smooth, bold wines or warm, sweet ports she'd sampled in the palace… but it wasn't entirely bad.

She nearly dropped her mug when a tall, burly man all but fell onto the stool beside her.

"Now _this_ is a face to remember!" he declared, smiling at her fully. He stank of ale and harder spirits, and given how close he leaned toward the princess, he had no respect for personal space.

Nor had he enough sense to see the stunned disgust on her face.

"Why is it I've never seen you before, Lass?" he asked, his bold hand drifting toward her bare thigh.

Gritting her teeth, the princess crossed her legs to avoid his explorations, fingers seeking the dagger hidden in her boot. She barely grazed the hilt when Balthier draped his arm over her shoulders.

"We've only just arrived, good sir," he said, smiling amiably at the much larger, obviously sotted man. Despite her anger Ashe noticed his speech had lost some of its sophistication, becoming meek, common.

"My wife and I are passing through on a pilgrimage to Mount Bur- Omisace." Then, he carefully threaded his fingers with hers, and the princess' heart all but stopped dead in her chest.

It was impossible to miss the matching rings on their fingers; the deliberate manner Balthier held her hand only emphasized them. She stared stupidly at the polished metal, at Rasler's ring, feeling her stomach knot.

The stranger backed away, though Ashe hardly noticed. "Well, good luck to you, then."

The pair was left in relative peace, and Balthier shortly released her hand, stepping away to a more appropriate distance. Ashe furiously grabbed his hand.

At first she stared at him in silence, searching for his mocking, self-satisfied smirk. It could only be another of his flamboyant jests; there was no other way to explain his audacity.

How **dare** he pose as her husband, wearing his **ring**! "That… that isn't…" She couldn't even articulate her frenzied thoughts.

He frowned curiously at her until he felt her fingers trace the band. "What; the ring? Of course it's yours. How many wedding bands do you think I have on me?"

Her lips trembled before she caught herself. Setting her jaw, she took a moment to find a civil voice. "I do not know," she finally answered, her tone dripping ice. "How many grieving widows have you fleeced?"

His eyebrow rose, and after a tense moment, his lips quirked. "Only the ones who need me, Princess."

Her fingers itched to slap him, but whatever satisfaction she might gain would not be worth the attention. So instead she turned back to her mug, taking a deep sip of the ale in silence.

After a pause, Balthier settled close beside her. "I took control of the situation the best way I could," he murmured. "There's little sense in fighting for a lady wed, is there?"

She looked around the rest of the tavern to discover the patrons no longer took an interest her. Perhaps the illusion of wedlock was the best defense against men with wandering eyes.

Still, Balthier's arrogant teasing was uncalled for.

A long, pregnant silence settled between them. Ashe finished her drink and waved for another, doing her best to ignore him in order to focus on the tavern's idle chatter. The sooner they heard a valuable secret, the sooner she could be relieved of the pirate's stifling presence.

He sat close enough to keep their exchanges private, but it was also close enough for her to feel the heat of his body… and did he have to keep looking at her?

She tried to lean away from him without making it obvious. Just down the bar, someone was talking about "sandalwood chops." A strange topic of discussion, but the speaker's stern voice made it sound somewhat important…

"You must learn to play even the spontaneous parts, Ashe."

She had resolved not to speak to him again until they rejoined the party, but her tongue refused to keep still.

"Meaning?"

"Archades is a dangerous city," he said in an undertone. "If we wish to reach Draklor with our heads attached to our shoulders, we must be cunning. I don't think I need to illustrate how the Judges will greet us if we are caught."

He didn't. Ashe vividly recalled the havoc wrought upon Mount Bur-Omisace, and the difficult battle with Judge Bergan. The man was no longer _human_; the ferocity with which he fought nearly overwhelmed all six of them.

Archadia's military had proven its cruelty and might time and again. Surely, it was best to avoid confrontation whenever possible… even at the cost of her pride.

And that was the heart of the matter. Her sense of logic confirmed she had no justifiable _reason_ to hold her anger. Insensitive as it may have been, there was no malice behind Balthier's earlier display. She was still a little… thin-skinned when it came to Rasler; his loss was an open wound into which the pirate had unintentionally rubbed salt.

She felt her ire fade as she watched Balthier absently trace the rim of his mug, lost in his own thoughts. And she wondered… at what cost was _he_ returning to Archades? He had confessed that he'd left in order to "cut ties to the past." By returning to his homeland, the man was acting in direct opposition to his goal.

"Why are you doing this?"

He glanced at her, brow raised. "You must be quite temperamental to take offense at my sitting in absolute _silence_, Princess."

She frowned at him for a moment before shaking her head. "No; why are you so willing to take me to Archades, after you went to such lengths to escape her?"

He rolled his shoulder in a casual shrug, draining the rest of his ale. "You will find me an uncomplicated man, Highness. Wherever you are, rare treasure seems to appear… and so I accompany you."

Ashe stared at him incredulously, the silence stretching long enough for Balthier to beckon the barmaid for another round. "Not even _Vaan_ would believe that drivel," she snapped. "There is no profit in this; certainly no profit worth the associated risk. Any fool can see that."

"Ah, but I am not just _any_ fool, my dear," he answered. "And the treasure I pursue happens to be the rarest, most desirable treasure I've ever come across. Quite worth the associated risk, in this humble pirate's opinion."

She rolled her eyes at his vague words, determined not to even bother with his silly riddles. But the way he intently sought her eyes, all humor fading from his features like a mask removed, made it difficult to disregard him. She took note of what he said, and the manner in which he said it. And suddenly, she reached a conclusion she hadn't considered before.

And suddenly, that conclusion caused her tongue to tie, and an uncomfortable heat to climb up her neck.

Only then did his lazy grin slide back into place. "My dear, I do believe you are blushing."

And with one teasing comment, the world righted itself. Ashe had grown somewhat accustomed to his flirtatious banter; irritating as it sometimes was, she knew how to respond.

She didn't know how to respond to that… _other_ message that lingered in his eyes.

"It's warm in here," she informed him, holding up her chin. "And I may have had too much ale."

"Have you?" he asked, his tone mocking her. "Well, we have indeed stumbled across very valuable information. Now I know how to make that fetching rouge brighten your cheeks."

She narrowed her eyes, preparing a snappish reply, when she noticed Balthier's smile relax, his eyes focused over her shoulder. She turned to follow his gaze, and saw Basch nod at them from the doorway.

This round of their continuing game was over.

"It appears our mission is accomplished," Balthier noted, fishing some gil from his pocket. "And that is our cue to exit."

He gracefully rose to his feet, and offered his hand to the princess. "Shall we?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You _did _say you had a bit too much ale," he threw her excuse back at her. "We wouldn't want our majestic Lady to sprawl clumsily to the floor. Sir Basch would never let me hear the end of it if I'd allowed such an indignity."

Her lower lip thrust out in a mutinous pout, but she accepted his hand nonetheless.

And when he tucked her hand against his arm to escort her out, she offered no complaint.


End file.
